


The Making of a Killer

by tenaya



Series: Bloody But Unbowed [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenaya/pseuds/tenaya
Summary: This story supplies background to events in the WIP, Nobody’s Bitch.  It would disturb the flow of that story but readers did want to know what Len had been through.  Rather than a proper story, this is a collection of vignettes that will help explain Len’s reactions.





	The Making of a Killer

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, Leonard Snart has led a rough life with many kinds of abuse. Please note the tags and skip the story if you have triggers.

The first time Leonard Snart had a sexual encounter, he was fifteen years old. It was consensual because it was by Leonard’s choice. It wasn’t—he’d be damn if he was going to label his first time as...forced.

It was evening and his father was in the living room, drinking and watching TV. When Leonard heard a loud banging on the front door, he crept out of his room to linger at the top of the stairs where he could hear what was being said.

It was three of his father’s friends, three other dirty cops and they were angry. They accused Lewis of holding out on them. The four of them, and Leonard, too, had done a B & E on a mob warehouse. When the police report was filed, there were a couple of valuable—and legal— items listed that had not been in the pile to divide up afterwards. Lewis had been counting on them being contraband and that the Darbynians would not make them a part of the official police report.

Lewis folded quickly, tried to make a joke of it and offered to take them to the bus station locker where he had the items stowed. Two of the men flanked Lewis out of the house, but the third man said he’d stay behind. When Leonard saw the man glance up the stairway, the skin on the back of his neck prickled with apprehension. The man, Jack, had always made Leonard uneasy and his expression now sent Len hurrying to Lisa’s room.

His sister was at her desk doing her math homework and looked up quizzically.

“Lisa, I need you to go out the window and go to your hiding place. I need you to do it now,” he said, urgently.

She stared at him for a second and then jumped up to obey him. Her designated hiding place was the office at the skating rink. It had no security and lock on the door was so loose it would fail if you twisted the knob while giving the door a kick. She had shimmied down the rope ladder that Leonard had bought as a fire escape and was through the back gate when the door behind him opened.

“Where’s your sister?” Jack growled.

“Gone.”

Jack stepped up to the window in time to see the back gate swinging close. Jack grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him over to the bed. “Looks like you just volunteered to take her place.” He sat on the bed, legs wide and forced Leonard to his knees. “How good are you at blow jobs?”

Paralyzed, Leonard stared up at the leering face. All his words, lies and the truth, stuck drily in his throat. “I….”

Jack snorted. “A kid as pretty as you? Time to learn,” he said, catching Leonard’s right hand and painfully twisting the first two fingers backwards. “First rule, no teeth. You bite me, I’ll kick your teeth in. Second rule since you got a little mouth and my dick’s so big, suck the tip. You cry or try to fight me, I’ll start with breaking these two fingers. Now, punk, what do you say?”

Leonard felt a chill go straight to his core at the familiar words, words Lewis would use to keep him cowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Get started then,” he said with a smile that was all about the enjoyment of another’s fear and pain.

Leonard pulled at the zipper with his left hand, telling himself he could do this. He’d seen boys do this to each other in juvie and watched them with curiosity until Mick slipped a hand around his shoulders and guided him away, whispering, “Don’t get caught watching; they’ll think you’re interested.”

The thing was Len had been interested in learning. Every time he saw Mick’s gaze linger on his lips, he wondered what it would be like to make Mick gasp like those other boys did. He could use this as a learning experience and maybe he wouldn’t get beaten up, either.

He could do this.

Besides, it was going to happen anyway. Best try to get it over with while getting something for himself at the same time.

Ignoring the dread in the pit of his stomach and the way he wanted to cringe away from the tall, muscular man in front of him, he concentrated on what he was doing and not on the strong, pungent odor or the ways his eyes were watering. Jack’s other hand cupped his head and forced a rhythm on him. Suddenly, both hands were gripping his head and slamming him closer. The hot thick flesh stretched his lips until they stung and it filled his mouth until his jaw cracked. Unable to breathe, he pushed at the thick thighs and then panicked when he started to choke on the salty fluid that suddenly seemed to be everywhere.

“Swallow, punk, and I’ll let you go.”

He swallowed quickly and tried not to cough.

His head was slowly pulled back by his ears. “That’s it. Keep swallowing. Man, that feels so good.” When his cock was out, Jack pushed the tip over Leonard’s face, leaving his cheeks and nose wet and sticky. Then he laughed and planted a boot in the center of Leonard’s chest and shoved hard.

Leonard went sprawling until he hit the desk’s legs. He lay there stunned.

“You are such a fucking whore. It’s going to be a pleasure breaking in you and your sister.”

Leonard’s heart hurt so much he thought it would burst. “She’s only eight,” he whispered brokenly, his voice hoarse.

“The perfect age,” Jack said, licking his lips. He picked up her pillow and rubbed his wet cock against it.

When he put the pillow back on her comforter, Leonard knew he would find a way to kill Jack.

***

It took two days and an anonymous phone call. He didn’t even have to plant any evidence since Jack had taken the most important statuette home. Jack was discovered the following morning by a neighbor floating in his pool with all his clothes on. Apparently he had tripped, hit his head, fell into the water and drowned.

No one knew what had happened that night with Jack, what Leonard had done. And since Jack was dead as far as he was concerned, it had never happened.

And if he never gave a blow job or was put on his knees in front of a man, he could even believe it.

*********

When Leonard was eighteen, he was working hard to establish a name for himself and would hire out as part of a crew for various jobs. This particular heist had went well with Len’s ability to bypass various alarm systems integral to the job. When they gathered at a warehouse to collect their pay, the boss, Marcus, asked Len to stay to discuss a future job with him.

He sat patiently to the side and watched as the rest of the crew were paid. Joey, the young man that was their driver, was staring at Len, biting his lip in indecision. Len cocked his head quizzically and Joey took a step towards him.

“Joey!” Marcus barked and Joey jerked like he’d been struck. “Here’s your cut. Get outta here and lie low for a few days.”

Joey lowered his head submissively, took his money and left with the others.

Len shifted uneasily, aware there was a tense undercurrent around him. He wished Mick was with him but Marcus had only needed Len for the job. He debated leaving with the rest but Marcus had proved to be an excellent planner and Len was fed up with working with overconfident idiots. He just would be cautious and wary.

Once everyone had left, Marcus waved Leonard over to the desk where he unrolled a blueprint. “Come here, I want to see what you think of this.”

Len sauntered over and leaned on the desk, intent on reading the blueprint. He saw the sucker punch coming at the side of his head an instant before it hit.

He was woken by his body jerking about, his arms stretched out over his head. Face down on the hard disk, he felt hard hands digging into his hips, holding him fast while he was vigorously fucked.

“Back among the living, Snart? This is just a little ‘welcome to the crew’ screw. You should be honored.”

Leonard tried to open his mouth but his jaw seemed to be dislocated. He laid his head back down on the desk because it didn’t matter if he couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell him to stop. Men like him never stopped; in fact pleading only increased their enjoyment of the cruelty. He would bide his time and wait for his moment.

He came back to awareness when Marcus slapped his head. “Hey! I guess you’re not enjoying this as much as I am, eh? Well, don’t take it personally. You just needed to be reminded who’s the boss, then we’ll be able to work together so much better. I’ll be back in a bit. I’ve worked up an appetite working that sweet ass of yours.”

He paused, obviously waiting for Len to say something. When he didn’t, he frowned. “I was going to bring you back something but not now.”

Len waited until he couldn’t hear Marcus’ footsteps anymore before he pulled himself across the desk. Peering over the edge, he saw that rope had been used to tie each wrist to a different table leg. Maybe if he tried to rock the desk onto its side or better yet, flip in a somersault until he was on the floor, twist around and try to use his feet to tip the desk over and—

“Hey,” Joey said, softly, apologetically. “I’m couldn’t do anything before but I’m here now.”

“Cut me free,” Len mumbled, unable to move his jaw.

“Right,” he said and pulled out a switchblade. He’d sawed one binding in half when they heard Marcus returning.

Leonard’s eyes locked with Joey’s and he saw raw panic in them.

“If he finds me here...I can’t go through that again. I’m sorry!” He thrust the knife into Leonard’s hand and slipped out of sight.

Len quickly brought the blade to thick nylon rope and sawed at it, frantically.

“What the hell?” Marcus ran up to him and kicked the knife out of his hand just as Len finished cutting through. The blade hit the side of the desk and fell to the floor not far away. Marcus fell on him, using his weight to pin Len down, but Len used everything he had to keep as much distance as possible between them.

Suddenly, Joey was standing above them, swinging a hole punch hard against Marcus’ head. Marcus fell heavily and limply onto of Len while Len scrambled for the knife. Once it was in his hand, he jabbed it repeatedly into Marcus’ stomach. Blood flowed hot and sticky all over him, making it hard to keep his grip on the knife.

“Snart! Snart! What are you doing?” Joey gasped. “Stop! You’re killing him!”

“That’s the idea,” he gritted, straining against the larger body until he was laying on top of it. He kept stabbing deeply into Marcus while slicing the tip sideways, trying to severe the large arteries he knew lay inside.  
  
Hands were around his waist lifting him away. “Snart! Snart! He’s dead. You need to stop.”

Leonard wiggled free and stumbled away. He leaned against the desk, breathing hard. He looked down and saw he was naked and covered with blood. He watched large drops splatter on the desk he’d been tied to. He pushed away from the desk and stood swaying. “Leave.”

Joey glanced worriedly at the body and back at Len, his eyes huge. “I can help—“

“Leave!” Len growled, waving the knife towards the door.

Frightened, Joey back away, turned and ran.

When he heard the door slam shut he limped back to the desk where a phone teetered on one corner. He picked it up and dialed the number of the pay phone in Saints and Sinners. It was picked up on the eighth ring.

“Wrong number!” the gruff voice barked out.

“Mick,” he mumbled, still unable to move his jaw and weak with relief. “Mick, I need you.” Len had asked him to wait for him at their favorite bar and help celebrate his payday. He was overwhelmed with gratitude that his friend was still there.

Suddenly all business, Mick asked, “Where are you? What do you need?”

“The warehouse. I need clothes. Mick? Bring gasoline.”

His friend didn’t waste time asking any questions. “Twenty minutes,” he said and hung up.

Len stared at the body. There really was a lot of blood. Fire would be the only thing that would clean the area of incriminating evidence. Mick would know how to best set a blaze that would leave only bones and ash.

He limped to the wash room and splashed water over his face, arms and chest. There were no towels, paper or otherwise so he just kept pouring cold water from his cupped hands over himself, sluicing off the gore.

Movement in the mirror startled him until he recognized Mick. His partner’s eyes were filled with rage as they skimmed over his body.

“Here,” he said, his gentle voice at odds with the violence on his face. He carefully guided Len to stand sideways. Cupping his hands together, he filled them with water and poured it over Len’s shoulders and back. He swiped the excess off. “You’re fucking freezing,” he muttered, stripping off his henley. He used the cloth to blot dry Len’s face and head before moving on to dry of the rest of him.

“This way,” he said, pulling him back into the office area. “Clothes are there,” he said, pointing to a paper bag sitting on a chair. He threw the ruined henley on Marcus’ body. “Anyone else needing to be added to the pyre?” he said, side-eyeing Len.

Leonard wiped away the wetness beneath his eyes. “No. He’s it.”

“Do you need help cutting off those ropes?”

Len lifted up his wrists and eyed the rope still tied around them. It would be easy to pick the knots open. “No. I got it.”

“Alright. I’ll get started on the fire. Gas cans are in the truck. I’ll be back in a minute.” He paused. “If you can find your other clothes, pile ‘em on the body. Everything there will be ash when I’m done.”

Twenty minutes later, everything was ready to go. “You want the honors?” Mick asked him, holding out a book of matches.

“Hell, yes,” Len bit out. He struck one match then used it to light the rest on fire. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the gasoline soaked body and stepped back as ball of flames roared to life.

“Come on,” Mick growled, pulling at Len’s upper arm. “This whole thing will catch in a minute. We need to go.”

Leonard let himself be pulled away and when he looked up at Mick he was surprised to see his partner’s worried eyes were locked on him and not on the fire like he expected. That shocked him. He couldn’t let Mick see him like this, like a weak victim.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The fire would destroy everything about the last few hours. His attacker was dead. He needed to establish a tougher reputation. He needed to be untouchable.

And he needed to have Mick by his side. Always.

*********

The next time Leonard took out the trash it was because he was restless. He’d almost gathered up the courage to attempt to seduce Mick but Mick had enthusiastically joined a bar fight and ended up in jail for ninety days on a drunk and disorderly charge. Having the object of his desires beyond his reach, Len decided to go to a random gay bar. He’d done it before when he felt the need for a hookup, especially if Mick had found a dame to entertain for the night. He never went to the same bar twice, or neighborhood for that matter. He did not want to be recognized or seen as a regular. It’s not that he was in the closet, but he didn’t feel the need to announce that he was out. It was nobody’s concern but his own.

The bar wasn’t bad if a bit on the gentrified side with a hundred beers on tap, a few dart boards and four pool tables. Strangely, he felt like he was slumming.

He drank some beers and played some pool with an attractive man but eventually decided against leaving with him. He was a big guy and a tad too pushy; Len needed to remove a roaming hand from his ass. Twice. It became annoying and Len refused his offer to go somewhere else. Len ended all flirting and coolly focused on finishing the game, collecting his winnings and leaving. The man glowered and started peppering his talk with dismissive insults. Len thought he was just trying to distract him from the game and focused harder at blocking the man out.

Finally, the game ended and the man stalked off to the other side of the bar while Len settled in an empty booth. The room had gotten warmer and Len felt a wave a dizziness that he put down to not getting enough sleep lately. He’d just rest for a moment before he left. He leaned back in his booth...and woke up face down in some damp leaves, the cold, dewy night air chilling his bare skin.

Head pounding, he blinked his eyes and stared at a neon sign until it came into focus. He recognized it belonged to the bar he had been in and he was just beyond the parking lot in a stand of trees. Twisting over onto his side, he realized his Levi’s were down around his ankles and his ass burned with pain.

He had been roofied.

He sighed and blinked as he tried to make sense of it. He hadn’t considered that a man would roofie other man—he thought that was something that only happened to women. He cursed himself for making what could have been a fatal assumption.

He went home, cleaned himself up and set about making his plan. He would end this man so everyone who ever heard of his demise would know what would happen to them if they crossed Leonard Snart. Len needed to make a reputation so fearsome that no one would ever consider attacking him again. This was an opportunity.

It took only two days to find the man, break into his house and wait for him in the bathroom. He wanted that moment when the man would look in the bathroom mirror and see Len standing behind him with his gun out. One shot to the head and one to the dick. Len had found the man’s stash of rohypnol and shook out the pills, letting them fall all over him. Even the dumbest cop would know why this guy had been killed. They probably wouldn’t even search too long for his killer. As always, Len was careful to leave no evidence behind that would connect him to the killer.

The newspaper did report on how the man had been found, that the police were asking for people who may have been drugged and attacked by him to come forward. Yeah, right. Like they actually thought his victims would march up and present themselves to be their number one suspect. Follow ups in the newspaper were loaded with opinions from officials and those that knew the bastard that he got what he deserved.

Len thought so. He dropped hints that if he ever heard of anyone drugging someone to rape them, he’d take them out personally. Again. With great enjoyment. He said it with relish and anyone he said it to was careful to agree with him—and pass along their suspicion that Leonard Snart would kill a person based on rumors.

***

It was a few days after Len had picked up a released Mick from jail that they were sitting on the couch of a safe house drinking beers and watching a game.

“You know they were talking about you in the can,” Mick said, staring at the TV.

“Nothing good, I hope,” Len growled.

Mick picked at the soggy label on his bottle. “No. Nothing good.” He paused. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should have—“

Len cut him off. “I took care of it, Mick. It’s in the past.”

Mick grunted. “Right. Well, you got something planned?”

Len smiled, the one that curled the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad you asked. I’ve got my eye on the perfect score.” 

 


End file.
